Happy(er)

Beep beep! from Mile Marker 12,111...

On our first ride together, I can't find the odometer.  

Then I see this two-digit number at the bottom of the dash.

40 mi.

40 miles?  For this trip?  

Nope.  Just 40 miles. 

Total. 

That's the odometer -- haha!

It's the first smile we share. :)

Happy new car!

Screech!  Reverse...

I did not want to get a new car.   

Or a new microwave.  Or a new toilet.  

I did not want my apartment's HVAC to clink and clank like there's a ping pong ball in the pipes. 

I did not want to send my prosthesis in for maintenance the week before I left for Paris.  And I definitely did not want to brew a stress fracture in my right foot (a.k.a. real foot) the week I returned.

I haven't walked in more than a month, aside from what's absolutely necessary.  Do I sound irritable?  I'm irritable.

Morning miles were a way to shape my day.  

Without them, I've lost some momentum.

In the world of illness and injury, these are all small things. 

I know.  I get it.

But they happen in the context of bigger things. 

A few weeks ago, I heard this line on a StoryCorps podcast:

Always look where you want to go, not where you want to avoid.

It was advice from a dad to his son, who was learning to drive.  

It made me realize how much I've been focusing on what I want to avoid these days -- pain, struggle, frustration, anger, fatigue -- all those sensations we feel when things (big or small) break down and pile up.  Some days, all I can think about is what's broken.

But dads are wise.  

Especially when it comes to cars.

At Mile 12,111, I wake up early, with fresh perspective and new energy.

It's Labor Day.  

September.  

(Old teaching habits live on.)

And I have this thought:

Not everything is happy, but could I make things a little... happier?

Instead of a sluggish start at home, I rush through my routine, get my leg on, and go out.

Walk (or limp) into the parking garage. 

Get in the car. 

Drive to CVS.

It's a mere 2 blocks from the apartment -- somewhere I used to walk -- but hey, who's counting?  

I hobble in for a quick errand.  And then, the magic happens.

My new car and I conjure up the tiniest little adventure. 

'Cause we've gotta celebrate Mile 100! 

We drive to the Italian Market, where Gleaner's Café has just opened.  

It's my old favorite coffee spot -- one I can only reach on 4 wheels.

I pull out my coffee card and realize I've earned a free cup.  Better yet, I snag one of the last Hershey's Kisses in Gleaner's history!

Woo-hoo!

It's a small happy thing -- which makes me think of other happy things, big and small.

Through all the obstacles this summer, I'm grateful for family and friends who've come to my rescue and supported me along the way.  

I picked up my new car on September 1.  

I chose her carefully with love and guidance from -- you guessed it -- my dad.

And maybe it sounds silly, but...

I think she's HAPPY to be mine!

Drive safe. Be happy(er).

Rebecca

Stop the Bleed

May is National Trauma Survivors Month -- and guess what...

You can learn to help someone survive a traumatic injury like mine.

(Yes, really!)

It's called Stop the Bleed.

Now I know what you're thinking.  I, too, sat through middle school health class in the 1980's.

Back then, tourniquets were a big NO.
And dealing with blood??  
That was an even bigger NO.

But you should know (see what I did there?) these important life-saving measures aren't NOs anymore.

First aid and trauma care have evolved since then.  

I have it from a good source  -- actually the best source -- my Jefferson Trauma Team.  

It's okay to help in an emergency.  

In fact, it's RECOMMENDED.

And EVERYONE should know how!

Stop the Bleed is a nationwide campaign to teach ordinary bystanders how to help someone who's bleeding out.  

Maybe you're out hiking or rock climbing.  

Maybe you're walking through the city.  

Maybe you're waiting at a bus stop.

With a little knowledge,
YOU can save the life of someone who's injured.

First -- CALL 911.  Make sure YOU are safe.

If the person is bleeding, apply pressure to the wound.  Both hands.  Shoulders strong.  Get down on your knees if you have to.

If the wound is wide and deep, pack it with gauze -- or whatever fabric you might have handy.  

Even a t-shirt will work.
(Trauma Nurse Nora taught me that!)

For arm or leg wounds, a tourniquet might be necessary.  Learn to use one. 

If bleeding is forceful or continuous, apply a tourniquet 2-3 inches above the wound or above the nearest joint.  (You can even make one from a cloth or belt.)

Then, stay with the person and wait for help to arrive.

As as a traumatic injury survivor, I know what it's like when bystanders don't know what to do.  My accident occurred next to a bus stop with many commuters on their way to work.  Everyone watched.  

NO ONE stepped off the sidewalk to help.

I know what it's like to lie in the street, bleeding and frightened, waiting for an ambulance to arrive. 

In 3-5 minutes, a person can bleed out from a serious wound.

It can take an average of 7-10 minutes for first responders to arrive.

I have no way of knowing if my outcome would have been different if a bystander had stepped in to stop the bleed.  

But perhaps it would have been worth a try.

We can all learn the basics. Check out Stop the Bleed Project for more information.  

You can view a short video here.  
Or a longer video here.

This month, I learned the basics and joined the Jefferson Team to help educate the public. 

It was just my first step into this important cause.  More to come...

ANYONE CAN BE A HERO.

P.S.  Stop the Bleed Kits and other first aid supplies are readily available - even on Amazon.

Art Walk

Walk 2 blocks.

That's what we did.

We simply walked east instead of west, as we usually do.

Of course, like always, it's not quite as simple as it sounds.  To venture off the beaten path -- to walk those 2 blocks east -- involves a downhill slope, a kind of shadowy underpass, and a stretch of sidewalk that's a bit more isolated than I like.

The city has tried to make it more palatable.
(And safer!)

Technically it's well-lit and filled with car traffic, but for an above-knee amputee like me, walking down here alone still feels vulnerable.  I'm more comfortable sticking to my usual route around the neighborhood.

Everything's easier with a friend though.  (Thanks walking buddy, Jasmine!)

Before we know it, we emerge onto the sidewalk along the Delaware River.  

Can you see us??

There, we're embraced by all kinds of ART!

I'm especially taken with this piece by
Becky McIntyre  -- and the Philly community!

Cherry Street Pier is a century-old industrial pier that juts out into the river.

It's been rehabbed into a public art space with studios and workshops,

 rotating exhibits
like this one by Athena Astraea,

and murals by local artists.

Philly style --
"Yous" know what I mean :)

I've been to events here before, but it's my first time wandering around for no reason at all.

On this Sunday afternoon, it's quiet and open -- an array of colors, metal, and glass.   Art is EVERYWHERE.

It's in the structure and shapes,
the well-worn stone, 
and the deep cerulean sky.

I recently read this quote by author Gretchen Rubin:

We can walk into any room and call it a museum.

I couldn't agree more, but I'd take it one step further...

We can walk out of any room too.

To sidewalks
and waterfronts

and cityscapes

and community spaces.

You never know what you'll find.

About a year into the pandemic, I wrote a post called Walk Until Your Day Becomes Interesting, inspired by one of my favorite travel writers, Rolf Potts.

Back then, I was trying to conjure up a new adventure.  And though I never quite reached the goal I set out for in that particular post, I still love -- and live by -- this philosophy.

Walks are interesting.  Exploration can be its own reward.   

Go ahead.  Walk 2 blocks.  

You don't have to wander far.  (I rarely do!)

Just keep your eyes...or ears...or mind... open to whatever you find.

And then, stop and enjoy the view!

(Jodie, I thought of you a thousand times on this walk!  Can't wait till we can walk together. xo)

My Favorite Kind of Snow

...Is this kind.

The kind that settles lightly on car windshields, but leaves the sidewalks bare.  The kind that's soft and powdery, like the dust of sugar on cookies.  

Like someone decorated the city just for me.  (And maybe they did!)

GRACIAS :)

As a solo traveler and above-knee amputee, I'm especially cautious in the winter.  I fear snow, ice, wind, and all the hazards that come along with them.  

Really, anything could take me down.  

And, if I go down, my independence goes down with me.  (This gets complicated when you live on your own!)

Snow makes everything more difficult.  It lingers in the city, restricting my ability to run errands, step off curbs, and even park my car.

Long after it's clear enough for "most people," snow continues to confine me at home.

But not this kind!

Today the pavement is drying.  The puddles in the street are liquid, not ice.  

And bonus -- as I start down the sidewalk, a familiar voice calls out my name.

Running into Donna makes even the smallest walk BIG FUN.

Go Eagles!  Go Flyers!

Good vibes, Philly!

For me, this kind of snow is an unexpected win.

Protected

12 years later, I am here...

Happy Alive Day!

Each year on the anniversary of my accident, I find myself standing on the corner of 5th Street and Washington Avenue in South Philly. 

I watch the traffic go by, breathe in the autumn air, and stare wistfully (or perhaps lovingly) at a little patch of blacktop that's so familiar I consider it mine.

Today the blacktop is different.

(And I've never been more excited to write a blog post in my life!)

This intersection -- which has felt to me like the most vulnerable place in the world -- is now PROTECTED.

With a brand new
PROTECTED BIKE LANE!

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  

The best "Alive Day" gift I could have asked for. 

(Seriously, my eyes tear up with joy!)

A biker in a gold helmet approaches, following the same route I rode on this exact day 12 years ago.  I snap a pic as she passes by. 

It feels like the whole street
should be paved with gold!

I look both ways and then step carefully onto the green lines myself.  The paint is still fresh; the colors, impossibly bright.  

My eyes follow the smooth curve of white strokes on the ground.

I admire the row of perfectly placed posts, dividing the roadway between traffic and bicycles.

I knew this was in process.  It's been years in the making.  But I drove by just weeks ago -- and none of this was here! 

(It's so new, it comes with instructions!)

I step back on the sidewalk to take it all in.  An ambulance passes.  Then a few trucks.  Then some kick-scooters.  Then another bike. 

Washington Ave. is busy as always, but it feels different somehow.  Changed.

I have to tell you... I almost didn't go back this year.  

I've changed too, and I felt a strong pull to do this day differently.  To turn a new page.  Get a fresh start.

I wondered if it was time.  But how would I know?

Is 12 years too soon to move on?
Or is it too late?

Turns out, 12 years is just right.

This isn't the end of the journey, really.  Just the end of a certain chapter.  There'll be many more milestones, I'm sure.

Maybe I'll write about them. 

Or maybe I'll move on to something new.   

Whatever happens next, this little patch of blacktop will always be with me.  It's a cherished, sacred part of who I am.

Today, like always,
I leave a little something behind.

But today, leaving feels different.  Better.  Less unfinished.  More secure.  

Wherever I go, I'll know this place is taken care of. 

Its markings will be there to protect all who pass through.  Bikers on their way to work, like I was.  Kids on their way to school.  Skaters, scooters, strollers, and so many more.

What could be better than that?

Thank you Philly!

Be safe, everyone.  Buckle your helmet.  Pedal on.

And, as a wise PT once taught me, don't forget to enjoy the ride!

xo,

Rebecca

Vision Zero's goal is to reduce traffic deaths to zero by 2030.  For more on Vision Zero Philly and protected bike lanes, click here.

10 Blocks Away

Hello from Mile Marker 10,544...

It's a beautiful morning in Philly.

The neighborhood is quiet.  A young couple snaps wedding photos in the sunlight.  When I walk by Old Christ Church, a choir sings on the breeze. 

My new foot feels especially springy.  

People smile.  Say good morning.  Breathe the fresh air.

The humidity has somehow vanished overnight.

Also overnight, my phone tinged with this text message:

2 AM:  There was a shooting incident in the vicinity of 4th and South Streets.  The Center City ED has received multiple victims.  There is significant police presence around the emergency department.  The ED is on divert...

What place gives you that "back-to-normal" feeling?

At Mile Marker 9,525...

I shop.  

At a bookstore.

In person.

A trip to Inkwood Books is always a treat.  But after 14 months of browsing online, this feels like a luxury vacation!  

Just imagine...

Have Heroes

Long awaited greetings from Mile 9,449...

Ever have a moment where you just don't have the words?

Or possibly, a year??

At Mile 9,449, I take my first steps inside Jefferson Hospital since before the pandemic began...

Be There

Hello from Mile 9,422...

... on Kelly Drive! 

It's the most crowded place I've been in a year.  But with Rocco and Susan, I feel safe.  

That's why we call them my Secret Service :)

Long before the accident, we skated and biked together -- many times on this exact path.  We always watched out for each other.  Made sure none of us got hurt or left behind.

After my accident, they watched out for me even more...

Bless Your Breath

Mile Marker 8425:

I'll cut right to the chase.

WEAR A MASK.

It's 8:05 AM, and I've just returned from a 1.6 mile walk.  But instead of feeling energized and ready for the day, I am simmering with anger.

Here's why... 

19 for 2019

Mile Marker 7000:

It's New Year's Eve and I can't sleep.

Actually, it's 3 A.M.  The fireworks are finished, my friends have gone home, and the streets below my windows are eerily silent.  Yet I'm wide awake, restless, pacing around the apartment with my leg still on.

Why?

Thanks JT!

Mile Marker 6575:

You never know when you'll meet (or need!) an emergency physician.

I met Angela at Jefferson's Trauma Survivor Cycle-A-Thon last spring.  She'd just become Chief Resident in Emergency Medicine at Jefferson Torresdale Hospital, a Level 2 Trauma Center in northeast Philadelphia.

When we started pedaling, we didn't know much about each other, but as we rode...